Pain flashed in her eyes. In disbelief, she said, "In your eyes, am I that kind of person?"
Memories of my past life surfaced again. I curled my lips bitterly—it wasn't paranoia.
Ever since Derek moved into our place, whether it was the expensive suit I'd only worn twice or the fabric coupons I'd saved up for months, Jasmine gave them all to him under the guise of "subsidizing" him.
Now, as if to prove she didn't care about my little bit of brown sugar, she had her people bring over everything she'd brought from Capital City—specialty children's toys, and a precious, expensive suit.
The people around us gasped. "That's a department store suit! It feels so silky just touching it—I can't imagine how handsome you'd look wearing it..."
Slowly, everyone got the point. "So he's the real factory director's husband..."
Mocking looks fell on Derek. He shot me a vicious glare, gritted his teeth, and left.
I didn't bother with him. I just stared at that familiar suit, and that night I dreamed of my past life again.
Back then, after Derek moved in, I refused to give up the master bedroom. Jasmine and I had a huge fight.